


i'm a hero in my mind

by thedrugdealingshark



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedrugdealingshark/pseuds/thedrugdealingshark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Roman and Seth are probably on their way back to the hotel room, all broken and battered, while Dean’s here, sharing a bottle of champagne with the COO of the company. It’s a comparison Dean’s happy to let his mind linger on." </p>
<p>AU where Dean betrays the Shield instead of Seth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm a hero in my mind

This had been years in the making. _This_ is what the people expected, so Dean thought he might as well not disappoint them. It’s not what they wanted, but there was still that little thought of a possibility that lingered within the back of their minds, one that they were hoping to be wrong about. But, they weren’t.

Dean Ambrose was a traitor - _still is_ a traitor - and always will be. 

And he’s just reminded everyone of that. 

But, there’s still this _guilt_ that lurks around like a bad aftertaste, one that makes Dean almost regret his actions, but not enough to actually care. He did this for _him_ \- himself, the only person he’s ever been able to trust - and it feels nice to actually do something selfish for a change. 

It’s kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. That’s how the world works. There’s no _brotherhood_ in the real world. Only betrayals and backstabbings. 

Honestly, Dean doesn’t understand why the world is so shocked, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s still able to surprise people, that he’s not as predictable as everyone thinks he is. 

An obnoxious slap to the face that Dean’s happy to deliver. 

He thrives within the boos and the jeers like he’s being reborn, and in a sense, he is. It’s intoxicating: standing over his fallen brethren, completely taking in the chaos and havoc that he’s created. This was his doing, a decision he made entirely of his own will. 

Roman Reigns, the powerhouse, the foundation and brawn of the Shield, broken down to nothing more than a pile of rubble in Dean’s hands. 

Seth Rollins, the architect, the mind and brain of the Shield, destroyed completely at Dean’s doing. 

Dean stands alone in the ring, the silence of the shocked audience like a peaceful white noise, until the wheels start turning and the jeers finally kick in. 

The dented up chair that he’d brought down over and over on his so-called “brothers” is clutched within Dean’s hand like a symbol of what this truly is. A revolution, the end of an era. The Shield is dead and no longer rules the company, and the crown has been handed over to Dean. 

Hunter moves from his position at the end of the ramp, and enters the ring, clapping a proud hand on Dean’s shoulder, and the two of them grin into all the outraged faces. 

“I win,” Hunter says, and the camera is able to catch it for all the people at home. 

_I win._ Funny how Dean was thinking the exact same thing. 

\- - - - - 

Hunter catches him outside the arena, alone and isolated, and Dean puts his guard up immediately. 

“Where are your boys?” is the first thing Hunter says to him, approaching him with a million dollar smile and a million dollar suit to match. Smug and arrogant. 

Dean has half a mind to swing at him, but doesn’t. 

“Why?” Dean doesn’t want Hunter knowing that there’s a possibility that neither Roman nor Seth are nearby, so he avoids the question, and instead, answers with another question. 

Hunter chuckles like he has all the time in the world to waste here with Dean in the parking lot of the arena. Dean laughs along mockingly just to spite him. 

“Because,” Hunter says, this old friend enactment never faltering in the slightest. “I don’t think they’d be too pleased to hear what I’ve got to say to you.” 

“And what’s that?” Dean hopes that Hunter doesn’t see him visibly tense at this, because he’s sure he’s about to get jumped by Orton or Batista or whatever lackey Hunter’s managed to round up. 

“I’ve got an opportunity for you, Ambrose,” Hunter noticeably switches gears to an all-business mannerism within seconds, and Dean has to admit, he’s intrigued. “an opportunity that you can’t possibly pass up.” 

Dean should probably be telling Hunter to shove whatever opportunity he’s offering up his ass, but instead, Dean finds himself saying, “Try me.” 

Hunter looks pleased (and also mildly surprised) by this, and fishes out a card out of his coat pocket. “I need someone like you on my side, Ambrose,” 

Dean eyes the card warily, like it might explode in his hand, before taking it. It contains Hunter’s contact information that Dean quickly scans over before glancing back up at him. 

“You don’t trust them, I can see it,” Hunter continues. “and you’re smart not to.” 

“Who says I trust _you_ , asshole?” 

“Nobody,” Hunter does that odd chuckle again and it seems to echo within Dean’s head. “but it’d be smart to get to them before they got to you, and I know you’re a man of that particular mindset, Ambrose.” 

Dean’s already too far in, and he’s _considering_ it, he’s actually fucking considering what this asshole is saying to him, and he can’t stop himself. 

_Go fuck yourself._ Dean wants so badly to say, his mind is screaming at him to say it, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t say anything. 

“I’d appreciate it if this wasn’t mentioned to anybody, especially Reigns and Rollins,” Hunter’s saying. 

_I’d appreciate it if you’d go fuck yourself._

“You got that?” 

Dean nods. 

“This is between you and me, alright?” 

Another nod. 

“Good,” Hunter grabs for Dean’s shoulder, squeezing at it like they’re old pals, and Dean’s skin is burning under Hunter’s palm. “I’ll be in touch, Ambrose.” 

This can’t be happening. Hunter actually thinks that Dean’s gonna bring down the Shield. 

Hunter spares Dean one last hopeful yet admonishing look before starting off in the direction he came. Dean glances down at the card in his hand, eyes automatically scanning over the phone number one last time before looking back up at Hunter’s retreating form. 

“Hey!” Dean shouts before Hunter gets too far out of reach. 

_Now’s the time, do it, do it now, tell him to go fuck himself._

Hunter freezes and turns around, and Dean can tell he’s expecting it, he knows it’s coming. 

“Since we’re _business partners_ or whatever now, you could probably call me Dean.” 

\- - - - - 

Dean can’t get in Hunter’s limo fast enough. He did it, he actually fucking did it, Dean can’t believe it. 

“You made the right decision,” Hunter says to him once they’re clear of the arena and on their way to whatever five-star hotel Hunter has booked for the evening. “I just want you to know that.” 

“I know,” Dean assures him. 

Hunter’s sitting right beside him, a hand placed on Dean’s knee and a smile on his face, and this should all feel so _wrong_ but it doesn’t. 

Dean isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Pride, maybe? Accomplished? Whatever he feels, it’s good, and Dean feels like basking in it forever. 

He’s in this for himself, now. No more dancing within the shadows of Roman and Seth, just itching to be noticed. No more being belittled or overlooked by those who see Roman and Seth as some greater power. 

Dean never had to prove himself, but he’s glad that he did. 

Roman and Seth are probably on their way back to the hotel room, all broken and battered, while Dean’s here, sharing a bottle of champagne with the COO of the company. It’s a comparison Dean’s happy to let his mind linger on. 

It’s amazing how his life had managed to be broken down and built back up within the matter of a few seconds. 

The second that chair hit Roman’s back, the life Dean once knew had disappeared. All the times he spent on the road with Roman and Seth, all the hotel rooms they’d shared together, all the laughs and the petty arguments, all of it - gone. 

Hunter provided him with a new life, a more promising one. 

One where he’ll finally get a chance to shine, one filled with opportunity, accompanied by the luxuries of wealth and fame. 

Dean’s never been a man who cared too much about those factors, but he assumes now that it’s because he was never provided with it, and he’s glad that it’s finally within his reach. 

\- - - - - 

The conversation with Hunter is a weight on Dean's shoulders, along with the card in his pocket, and he's trying so hard to just _remain calm_ around Roman and Seth for the time being. 

He can’t let Roman and Seth suspect anything. They have to be just as surprised by this as everyone else. 

And they don’t. 

They don’t notice how Dean fidgets, or how he aggressively rubs at his leg or the back of his neck when he’s thinking too much about it. They don’t notice how he falters in and out of conversations when his brain reminds him that he’s on someone else’s team now. They don’t notice how unresponsive Dean is when they’re talking strategy against Evolution. 

They don’t notice anything. Maybe it’s because they wouldn’t even think of it to begin with. 

Even a week after his and Hunter’s conversation, Dean still has his card. Folded up and crumpled in the bottom of his luggage and Dean digs it out while Roman and Seth are sleeping. 

It has to be going on two in the morning and Dean can’t sleep. He can’t sleep because of _this_. This weight hanging over his head like a burden. He’s gonna betray his brothers, and he’s losing sleep because of it. Dean can only assume it’s some early form of payback. 

He stands over the bathroom sink with Hunter’s card in his hand and his cell phone in the other, and even his breathing sounds too loud. 

Dean’s hands are shaking, _trembling_ as he dials Hunter’s number and puts the phone to his ear. 

Hunter’s probably not even up, and every ring seems longer than the last, and Dean considers just hanging up, and - 

“Have you changed your mind?” 

_Tell him you can’t do this._

“No,” Dean breathes out the word like it’s ridiculous that Hunter would even suspect such a thing. “when are we doing this?”


End file.
